


Sober or Four Times Tony Failed to Get Bruce to Drink and the One Time Bruce Actually Did

by casian



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Tony Stark/booze
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-18
Updated: 2012-10-18
Packaged: 2017-11-16 14:03:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casian/pseuds/casian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tony Stark set his mind to something, there wasn't much that could stand in his way, but Bruce Banner didn't budge when it came to drinking. The topic wasn't even up for discussion.</p><p>Prompted by ScienceBroPrompts on Tumblr.</p><p>Reposted from FF.net</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sober or Four Times Tony Failed to Get Bruce to Drink and the One Time Bruce Actually Did

The first time Tony noticed, they were all raising a toast to Clint and Natasha's engagement. He had just happened to glance over Bruce's way as the doctor raised his glass to his lips. Without taking a sip, he sat the glass back down on the table. An apprehensive smile settled on Bruce's mouth as he glanced around the room. For a brief moment, soft brown eyes met Tony's gaze. Bruce forced his smile a bit broader but not nearly enough to reach his eyes, leaving Tony concerned and a bit uncomfortable.

After more congratulations were exchanged, Bruce discretely excused himself, leaving the untouched glass on the table. Tony snuck out not far behind him, following the doctor back through the restaurant. Bruce slipped outside and Tony found him sitting on the empty patio, the outdoor seating abandoned this late in the year.

“A little cold for the patio,” Tony commented as he leaned forward, placing his hands on the back of a chair next to Bruce.

If Bruce was surprised by this intrusion, he didn't show it. “It's uh- a little claustrophobic in there. Just needed some air.”

Tony suspected it was more than the crowd. Testing that, he held out his flask. “Here, this'll help the cold and the nerves.”

“Uh- no thanks.” Bruce shook his head and without another word, slipped back inside.

He stood alone in the cold, staring at the door shut tight behind Bruce. Tony took a sip from the flask and rejoined the party, only to find the doctor's mood reversed. Bruce smiled and laughed and otherwise seemed in perfect spirits. Tony shrugged it off, filing the odd moment away until the next time. 

* * *

 

Tony and Bruce had been in the lab since early that morning. Pepper had interrupted them once to remind them of lunch, bringing them sandwiches from a nearby deli, but that had been several hours ago. Bruce was a real stickler for lab safety, which was understandable considering his “accident” but that meant snacks were strictly prohibited. Tony might have fought on that point; it was _his_ lab after all, but he enjoyed the doctor's company as much, if not more, than anyone else he'd worked with in the past. In fact, since Bruce moved into the tower, Stark rarely spent time alone in the labs or workshops.

So, food and drinks stayed in the break room next door- well, except the flask Tony kept within reach at all times. Pepper had long since given up on trying to curb the billionaire's drinking and, so long as it didn't interfere with his performance on the field, Fury and Rogers seemed to turn a blind eye. At least he wasn't trying to drink himself to death any more. Still, even with the vast improvements in his life, the rewarding work he did as Iron Man, a seemingly positive relationship with Pepper and being surrounded by his team who'd grown closer than his biological family had ever been, Tony found himself intoxicated more than most considered healthy. It was likely the lack of food in his stomach that led to Tony getting so drunk so quickly that night.

After the third time he'd had to delete several lines of code and restart, Tony gave up on getting any more work done tonight. He spun on the stool, rolling across the lab over to Bruce who was staring intently through a microscope. “What you got under there, doc?” he asked, his words only slurring slightly.

Bruce didn't spare him a glance but furrowed his brows. Irritation in his voice, he responded, “Still working on the tissue samples from the Leviathans.”

“Boring. Let's go do something fun.” Tony spun on his stool. “We can get a pizza and shoot some pool.”

Bruce perked up just a bit; clearly he hadn't eaten in just as long as Tony. “Pizza sounds nice.”

That was all the encouragement Tony needed. He grabbed Bruce's arm and practically dragged him out of the lab. As they took the elevator up to the penthouse, Tony had JARVIS order the pizza. His flask exchanged for a beer, Tony tossed one Bruce's way. Despite the poorly aimed throw, Bruce still caught the bottle.

Halfway through a game of pool, in which Tony's drunkenness served as an adequate handicap to Bruce's lack of skill, the pizza showed up. Tony went to offer the doctor another drink only to notice that Bruce had sat his aside, unopened. Shooting Bruce an almost offended look, he slurred as he spoke, “If you didn't want the beer, you coulda asked for somethin' else. What's your poison, doc?”

Bruce, blank expression, responded with a calm voice, “Jasmine or oolong.”

Pouting, Tony sounded like a child when he asked, “Why won't you drink with me Bruce? Drinking alone makes Pepper try to enroll me in AAA classes.”

The doctor rolled his eyes. “I think you mean AA meetings and that's not really something you enroll in, Tony. You just show up.”

“Well I don't want to be dropped off at another one. All the talking and feelings and angst. So drink with me.” Tony grabbed another beer from the fridge and, spinning too quickly, stumbled on his way to give it to Bruce. The usually somewhat clumsy doctor made another show of reflexes he never suspected Bruce had and caught him before Tony could hit the ground.

“Come on. I think you've had enough now.”

“No I haven't,” he protested. “I didn't even get any pizza.”

“And you're not getting any either. You're going to bed.” Though Banner was the shorter of the two, he clearly beat Stark in strength. He hoisted Tony up and led the billionaire to his bed.

“But I'm hungry,” he whined, but accepted the manhandling.

Bruce managed him into bed and brought him a glass of water and a couple ibuprofen.

“Oh no, no, no, no! I'm not going on my period, Bruce. You don't give a grown man Motrin!”

Of course, he took the pills anyway and finished the entire glass under Bruce's critical eye. Bruce took the glass and tossed a blanket over him, before heading to the door. As he hovered in the doorway, the doctor spoke without turning back, “And if you're good and stay in bed til morning, I'll even make you breakfast.”

The next morning, Tony woke to omelets and french toast and even though the events of the night before a blur, he didn't complain.

* * *

 

Tony's birthday was usually a big affair, tons of people, most of whom he didn't know, copious amounts liquor and expensive food, a relatively popular DJ or live band and inevitably a good deal of property damage. This year, Pepper had managed to talk him into something a little smaller; how is anyone's guess, especially when they'd broken up a week before the party. Though, the surprise visit from Rhodey might have had something to do with it. Rhodes had gotten a little better at handling Tony over the years and with the Avengers help, Tony's party managed to stay pretty low key.

The whole team was there, even the new recruits who weren't exactly Tony's biggest fans (something about Tony having dated Jan back in the day and more recently having “stolen” more than a few contracts from Hank.) Rhodey convinced Pepper and Happy to show up and even kept things civil. Hell, Fury even stopped by for a bit.

Of course, Tony was still plastered an hour in. Although Pepper had been pleasant enough, seeing his ex and the “friend” she'd cheated on him with and left him for only spurred the flow of expensive scotch.

“I know it's a party and you don't want to talk business, so I'll make it brief, but I will be back in the office starting Monday after next,” Pepper spoke with little visible discomfort, which bothered Tony more than he cared to admit. He still loved her and did want her to be happy, but could she at least pretend that leaving him had taken more of a toll than taking out the garbage? Tony took another swig as she continued, “Nat's been keeping me updated, not that much seems to have progressed in the last month. I should be able to smooth things over with the board and I can probably even get the Future Pharm people back on the docket despite you blowing off their presentation.”

Yeah, that was about as much of “business as usual” as Tony could handle. He downed the last of his glass and handed it to her. “Yeah, yeah, you do that Pep. I've got more important business to attend to now. Like getting another drink and finding something warm to take to bed.”

He might have missed the sneer as he waved Pepper off dismissively but Tony had expected it and took slight satisfaction in his childish jab. Still, if she was going to be fine and dandy after dumping him, Stark could play it off like the past year with her hadn't mattered. He sauntered to the bar for another drink and then, despite his earlier claim, he went looking for Bruce. The doctor had become somewhat of an anchor for Tony, always so steady and calm and stable. Even if he didn't want to admit how deep Pepper still cut him, Stark gravitated naturally toward the stabilizing presence of his friend.

He found Banner on the balcony, sitting at the edge, sipping a cup of tea. Tony sat down next to him and Bruce stiffened slightly. “Not thinking of jumping, are ya Doc? Pretty sure, Big Green wouldn't take that too well.”

A reserved laugh rumbled in Bruce's chest. “No, not jumping. Just enjoying the view, the cool breeze and the quiet. I'm not much for parties.”

“Me either,” Tony answered, more honesty in that than most would believe and certainly more than he expected.

Bruce just nodded, as if the doctor already knew this deep secret that Tony kept from himself most of the time. “Expectations.”

And that confirmed it. Bruce understood and that was enough to return a smile tinged with only a bit of sadness to Tony's lips. He offered the glass to Bruce. “It's better with friends.”

Bruce stiffened slightly again, closing off the intimate moment. “I don't drink.”

The pieces fell together: the night of Clint and Natasha's engagement, that night in the lab which was still blurry, how Bruce always seemed more on edge when Tony drank, how he'd never once seen the doctor take a drink. Even drunk, it only took Stark a few moments to process and come up with a suitable theory. “Seriously? You get that alcohol is a depressant right? If anything, it should help keep the Other Guy at bay.”

After a pause, Bruce spoke in a shielded voice, “It's not up for discussion Tony. I don't drink.”

If he hadn't been working on his second bottle of expensive scotch, not to mention the various mixed drinks, Tony would have been more tactful. Like this, he could barely keep the anger out of his voice. “What the hell is it going to take for you to stop worrying and just live your goddamn life, Bruce?! You hide behind the Hulk and your past and refuse to just live and it makes me sick!

“Seriously, we all have our demons. You think anyone on this team doesn't have regrets? Huge mistakes that eat them up inside every night when they try to close their eyes to sleep? You think you're so tortured, so damn unforgivable, a monster?! You're not the only one! You need to stop hiding and move the fuck on.”

He probably would have kept shouting but the look on Bruce's face silenced him. He'd never seen so much hurt of the doctor's face. Sure, he'd seen guilt there, regret, anger, doubt and fear. He'd seen all sorts of negative emotions behind Bruce's mask of calm and collected, but never pain and never unmasked, unhindered and unfiltered. As Bruce walked away, Tony told himself it was just the shock that kept him from following. Tony didn't see Bruce again for almost a week. 

* * *

 

Tony felt like crap for yelling at Bruce. He meant most of what he said; he really did hate that Bruce was hiding, refusing to let himself live, but the look on the doctor's face still ate away a pit of guilt in his stomach. Why was he always doing this? It was this sort of unfiltered, tactless talk that pushed Pepper away. Now he'd pushed Bruce away too. On a better night, Tony would blame others for leaving him but nights like tonight, he couldn't help but shoulder the blame. He was the asshole; he was the one who made it impossible for anyone to stay around too long.

Just as he was about to drown in the self pity (which always led to a solid week in the garage- refusing everything from the outside: people, food, sleep...) another body slid down next to him. Tony didn't dare look up, but he recognized the shoes: Bruce.

He knew he should apologize. He wouldn't, but Tony knew he should. Bruce deserved that. So did Pepper and Rhodey but both had stopped holding their breath a long time ago. Tony Stark did not apologize. He even took a stupid chance at pushing Bruce even further away and offered the bottle he'd been nursing to the doctor.

Bruce didn't leave though, an inaction that meant more to Tony than he would admit. He didn't take the bottle either, which Stark let rest between them.

“It's not the Other Guy.”

Tony barely bit back the argument.

“I tried, early on. The depressant effect prolonged the time it took for him to take over. Decreased my chances of changing by as much as fifteen percent.”

 _But why then?_ Tony kept his lips pursed together, quite a feat for him.

“My mother died when I was still young, so young I only kind of remember the sound of her voice, how warm and safe I felt with her. Even when Brian-” A hitch in his breathing cut the doctor off.

He wanted to encourage Bruce, to stop him, to ask a million questions, to hug him, to run away, to kiss him. Tony forced himself silent, forced himself to wait, forced himself to just listen for once in his life. He just sat and listened, dark eyes locked on the doctor's shoes.

“My father, Brian, he was schizoaffective and self medicated with alcohol. He never wanted kids, convinced by some psychotic delusion that he wasn't human at all and so any kid he had would be a monster too.” Bruce let out a small, humorless laugh. “Can't fail to see the irony in that.”

Tony found his hand on top of Bruce's, fingers entwining before he realized he'd put it there.

“He hated me more than himself and punished me for existing. The things he'd tell me when he got to the bottom of a bottle-” His voice trailed off for a moment, before Bruce continued, “The verbal assaults turned physical and his target got wider to include my mother. She tried to stop him, tried to keep me safe. She'd tell me to hide and take the brunt of his anger on nights when he'd been out drinking. He pushed her down again and again. One day, he pushed and she didn't get back up.

“I was too scared to stop him. Even after that, I lied and protected him. I thought, maybe, he'd leave me alone when my lies kept him out of prison, but he kept drinking and kept hurting me. One night, he drank too much while out. He bragged to a bar full of people about killing my mother, about bullying his son into lying about it. Of course, his disorder meant he was sent to a psychiatric facility instead of a jail cell, a place where they could _'cure'_ him instead of the inmates taking justice into their own hands. Still, I was young and naive. I believed I was safe.

“And then he came back.” Bruce paused and Tony could have swore he heart a soft sob.

The words screaming in his mind wouldn't take the leap to his tongue. _No, you don't need to do this. I didn't want this. Don't relive this nightmare because I was too stupid to see deeper_. Unable to speak, Tony squeezed Bruce's hand gently.

Taking a raged breath, Bruce continued, “He confronted me after they released him. He blamed me for her death and part of me even believed him. He didn't drink before I was born, after all. I ran because even then it was the only thing I really knew how to do. I tried to drown his words away in the bottom of a bottle. Drunk, I went to my mother's grave. I confessed, apologized, begged her forgiveness. Brian found me there. He was yelling and telling me what a monster I was. Said it was all my fault and I would never be forgiven.

“He pushed and for the first time, I pushed back. He fell hard, the back of his skull split on her tombstone and he didn't get back up.”

After a long, helpless moment, Bruce reached for the bottle still resting between them. Instinct kicked in and Tony pulled it away. Instantly on his feet, he purposefully strode to the sink and dumped the whiskey down the drain. He crossed the room again and knelt in front of Bruce, locking his dark gaze on the doctor's soft brown eyes rimmed with red and wide with shock. Tony pulled him into an embrace made slightly awkward by the angle and held him tight until the doctor finally relaxed in his arms.

He wanted to apologize. He wanted to say a million things. He wanted to promise never to drink again. But he knew better. Such promises couldn't be broken; he couldn't hurt Bruce like that if he wasn't this strong tomorrow or the next day. This sort of thing had to be taken one day at a time. He remembered that much from those meetings Pepper had all too often drug him to. For Bruce though? He could go back. He would fight this.

* * *

 Natasha and Clint's wedding was small but still quite extravagant. Of course, with Stark footing the bill, that was to be expected. Tony couldn't remember the last wedding he'd been to sober. He'd lost count of how many toasts he'd opted for sparkling cider instead of champagne. He knew better though. After the struggle to get here, even one drink would be too much. Personal victories aside, he wouldn't sacrifice the closeness that he'd gained with Bruce. He'd spent months convincing Bruce that neither of them would be like his father and though it was a fight to keep from slipping, he'd been sober for five months now.

Still, yet another toast thrust another glass of champagne into his hand. As he traded it for cider, a bit sloshed over the side and onto his fingers. He could still smell it when he raised his glass to him mouth. Tony shoved his glass to the table and fled the room in a less than discrete manner, only bumping into a handful of people on the way out. Outside, the cool evening air did little to relieve the nervous sweat that stuck to his skin.

He didn't hear Bruce approach, startled by the hand on his shoulder. Bruce's warm smile that spread all the way to his soft brown eyes slowed the panic swirling in his mind.

“A little cold for the patio,” Bruce spoke with a laugh.

Tony almost laughed at the familiarity, that night a little over a year before sticking out in his mind. “Claustrophobic, ya know? Needed some air.”

Bruce looked down at the glass in his hand. Even from that distance, Tony could smell the champagne. “When we first met, you trusted me, trusted my control, more than I had ever trusted myself.”

“You were worth trusting.”

“If it weren't for that trust, when the Other Guy fell from the helicarrier and I woke up in the rubble, I would have run again,” Bruce spoke, still looking at the glass. “I didn't trust you at first, even after the battle. I mean, you were right, but all I'd ever known was running, hiding from this monster I've been convinced was in me since before the accident gave him a face.”

“He's not a monster and neither are you.”

“And you keep saying things like that, Tony.” A wry grin crossed the doctor's lips. “You just don't give up. You're so convinced that the people around you are capable of so much and you expect that. You expect the very best of us, more than we know we're capable of. It's hard to take that kind of unwavering faith when all you've ever known is doubt and fear.”

Bruce lifted the glass to his lips before Tony could protest and downed the entire thing. They locked eyes as Bruce sat the empty glass aside.

“I'm done being afraid, Tony. I'm done doubting. I trust you.”

And then Bruce's lips met Tony's, a forceful press, intense but not demanding, the taste of champagne barely registering, drowned out by the wet warmth of Bruce's tongue slipping over his own. He let himself go in the doctor's arms and let himself trust.

Tony knew he could still slip. At some point, he probably would falter; an addiction never really goes away, after all. But he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, he could trust Bruce to be there to catch him when he fell.

**Author's Note:**

> From ScienceBroPrompts on Tumblr  
> Prompt #4 - The Reason  
> Tony attempts to get Bruce drunk. Bruce declines, but as Tony gets more and more pushy, Bruce gets angrier and angrier. Tony gets angry himself, telling Bruce that hiding behind the hulk is a bullshit move and that Bruce has nothing to worry about. Bruce then spills the beans on his childhood, and his drunk father.  
> +10 points if Tony just assumes Bruce’s reasoning is the hulk, and Bruce doesn’t actually say anything about it.  
> +100 points if Tony realizes that Bruce thinks he’ll be an angry/abusive drunk like his father, and then comforts him over it.  
> +100,000 points if Tony at least considers giving up drinking (to an extent) because of what happened to Bruce.


End file.
